


A Replacement Wolf

by ggbayley



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Lost Love, M/M, Prince of Winterfell, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark (implied) - Freeform, Wicked Theon, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggbayley/pseuds/ggbayley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon yearns to reclaim what he has lost, and finds a pale replacement</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Replacement Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> This is Theon in complete Prince of Winterfell asshole mode. Takes place during A Clash of Kings (Season 2) in Winterfell

“Right.” Theon put down the scroll he was studying, turning to face the boy who had just been sent in. He was common, but young enough, some farmer’s whelp who had been working in the castle. “This is how this is going to go. You do what I tell you, when I tell you. Don’t speak unless I ask, and don’t think about saying a word about this, to anyone. I chopped off a man’s head today; you tell anyone, it’ll be yours tomorrow. You understand?”

“Yes m’lord.” The boy’s eyes were glued to the floor.

“Good. Then take your clothes off and get into bed,” Theon commanded.

The boy’s eyes shot up, staring at him in horror. Theon gave him a look like he was an idiot, pointing to the bed. The boy shuddered, but obeyed, slowly undressing and perching awkwardly on the edge of the bed, hands placed in his lap to cover himself.

“Stop that,” Theon commended, pulling off his own tunic and unlacing his breaches. “Get in the middle of the bed, and spread your legs.”

He ignored the boy’s pained look and short, fearful breathes. Casting his breaches to the floor, he crawled naked onto the bed, letting his eyes sweep over the boy’s body. It was fit and sinewy, not especially great, but attractive enough for his purposes. He put a hand on the boy’s side, ignoring his trembling. His lips moved in and took the boy’s, but when he found only a still, quivering mouth, he pulled back.

“Well, kiss me!” he snapped.

The shaking boy stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. Theon went in again, and the boy tentatively moved his lips. Theon plunged his tongue into the boy’s mouth, ravaging it as the boy fought not to gag. It wasn’t a satisfying kiss, but Theon continued it regardless. His hand found the bottle of oil next to the pillow, and he spread some on his fingers, his hand sliding down between the boy’s legs. He was unhappy to find the boy’s cock limp and soft, but he carried on regardless. He slid one finger in, frowning at the boy’s tension.

“Relax, or this is really going to hurt,” he snapped. He sat up, finger still inside the boy. “Touch me,” he commanded. “You should enjoy this, I’m a prince.”

The boy’s trembling hand rose, pausing in the air as if it didn’t know where to go. Theon scowled, jabbing a second finger roughly into the boy’s hole. “I said touch me, you idiot!” He seized the boy’s hand, running it up and down his chest. “Isn’t that nice?” he murmured, thrusting his fingers to loosen the boy’s snug tunnel. “Keep doing that.” He guided the boy’s fingers to his nipple, tracing the soft pad of the boy’s finger around it.

“Come on,” he snapped. The boy repeated the motion vacantly, hands still shaking.

He was getting hard, despite the awkwardness. It had been so long, he needed this, and he didn’t care where he got it.

“You should feel lucky,” he informed the boy, pulling his fingers out and putting his hips in their place. “I’m a prince. How many boys get to fuck a prince?” He lined his cock up, and pushed in. The boy shuddered, a sob tearing from his lips. He was still soft, and it irritated Theon. He pinned the boy’s wrists to the bed, thrusting slowly at first and trying to make the boy kiss him again. The weak approximations of kisses just irritated him further. 

He pulled out, flipping the boy roughly and pushing his face into the pillow, then driving his cock back inside. He began to thrust with abandon, holding the boy against him, his fingers grasping his chest, his teeth biting the boy’s neck. In his lustful haze, he pretended the boy’s cries were in pleasure, that the boy’s shaking against him was in lust.

He grabbed the boy’s hair and tugged it, leaning in to kiss the strands. It was fine, auburn hair, which was why he had picked the boy. The strands were straight and limp, not thick and curly, but it was the closest he could get. The closest he would ever get, again.

He thrust in roughly, having no care for the sobbing body beneath him. He didn’t have to care; he was a prince, and the boy was no one. He finished with a harsh, angry thrust, collapsing on the boy as he came. The rush went through him, and he sighed with relief.

“Go.” He pulled out, slapping the boy’s ass. The boy jumped from the bed, snatching his clothes from the floor. He tugged them on while making for the door, limping slightly as he walked.

“Not a word,” Theon called, making a slashing motion across his throat as the boy looked at him.

“Yes m’lord,” whispered a broken voice, and the boy left.

Theon snorted. “None of these Northerners can appreciate anything,” he griped to himself. He turned on his side, staring off into space.

He hoped for satisfaction – but all he thought of was Robb.


End file.
